Sleep High, Train Slow

Four posts in, and the time seems rife to share with the loyal readers some of the recent nocturnal activity from my bedroom. Now, currently a small proportion of readers are leaning forward in their chairs, eager for some Jane Austen-like tales of lust and passion. Presumably, however, a large proportion of readers are also leaning forward in their chairs,  purely to avoid vomiting in their laps. Whoa there friends, you are getting ahead of yourselves. Alarmingly, the only activity of note stemming from my boudoir, is the installation of an altitude tent. The benefits of altitude training, and in my case the notion of ‘sleep high, train low’, has been well documented, and if all goes according to script, will help extract a little extra performance come race time, which, at the end of the day, is what this training caper is all about. So as idly mused, I can now claim to my feminine fans that a night with me is scientifically guaranteed to come with aerobic benefits. Carrying a series of scientific journals to support this fact would surely be the pragmatic and endearing thing to bring to my next date. If I wanted her to say, excuse herself politely and break several speed limits on the way home. 

My current room-mates are about as familiar with sports as I am with Russian verbs. Thus, appropriate explanation for such installation was met with blank stares, similar to my explanation of why government sanctioned drug testers came knocking several weeks ago. Drug addiction suspicions put to rest, this weeks explanation also satisfied warranted inquisitiveness, also adding to my intrigue nicely. The tent resembles a cross between Magneto’s jail in X-men, or as I like to flatter myself, something that might be used at a zoo to cage a lion or cheetah - similar wild, ruthless animals to myself. Although as was quickly pointed out, they also keep wombats behind such enclosures, but I brush of this sarcasm and ignore their feeble lampooning of throwing vegetable scraps into the tent for me to ‘graze’ upon. 

Now, my room can get so hot in the afternoon that on some occasions muffins have been known to overcook in my cupboard. Thus, we have ‘pimped’ my ‘crib’ (a small part of me died with this vernacular), by adding an air-conditioner. A chilled environment is therefore guaranteed, allowing bedroom activities such a sleeping, writing your favorite blog, and grooming my Movember Mo, to proceed in an amicable biosphere. 

Brendale, 34m Altitude

Col Du Brendale, 2500m Altitude
(Note the guitar, similar to Jimi Hendrix, I play better when I'm high…)

The forthcoming weeks will unveil how I adapt to such oxygen depleted exposure. The hypothesis is that it will augment my training, and facilitate an increase in such performance related markers as VO2, and various thresholds, hopefully without negatively effecting my training to resemble the title of this post. If it works, I will use it again at carefully selected times throughout the season, and if it doesn't, then perhaps I will have a tent for sale (air-conditioner not included). Stay tuned for progress reports, apparently altitude exposer has been known to increase one’s ability to perpetuate witticisms, so the future quality of prose may be lifted…

Take care friends,

Willy